


1947

by jcrycolr3wradc



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: First world meeting, Gen, Most main characters are named, this is a very serious fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrycolr3wradc/pseuds/jcrycolr3wradc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first world summit is had. The past is discussed, and the future is planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1947

**Author's Note:**

> First time fic for Hetalia. Wanted to do a bit of historical writing. Reviews will be received with grace and gratitude.

The first UN meeting was held in San Fran Cisco, in 1945. The United Nations purpose was to try and prevent another world war, because the world would not survive a third. It was there that the world leaders discovered something they had in common.

_Natio-Homo-Aeternus : Nations as the anamorphic representation, that for all appearances lived forever and looked like humans._ It appeared that every Nation in the world had one of these and that they had existed for a very long time. (The phrase was coined by a UN doctor who appeared to have gatecrashed the top-secret meeting. No one knew who he was though there was speculation it could have been Einstein is disguise. ) It was also never discovered how these Nations reproduced or how exactly they were all related.

The only thing that could be agreed upon in was that having these nations try and communicate with each other on a regular basis would be a valuable asset.

At the first UN meeting it was decided that meetings of these nations would be held annually, the first being as soon as it could be organized.

This meeting, the World Summit as it would later be called, would not happen until two years, 1947, after this first UN meeting.

Geneva, Swizerland 1947

Geneva International Conference Center

Room 880

9:15 am

The table is one long continuous plank of polished oak. It's really very fine craftsman's ship. Especially for this day and age, all things considered.

The chairs are all identical, made with oak as well and upholstered with crushed velvet.

There were stacks of paper already on the table, at each seat, therefore eliminating the need for Nations to pass things around and, god forbid, touch each other.

There were two doors. One lead to the hallway, and the other to a series of smaller rooms, where extra chairs and paper and such, were kept.

That's where Alfred Jones was at the moment. He was sitting on one of the extra chairs, smoking because habits are hard to drop, and going over in his head the plan for the meeting.

For some bizarre reason Alfred is supposed to be leading this meeting. Alfred has lead meetings before, sure, but that was during war. There was no time to second guess about if he said something dumb or offended someone. Now the only thing he can do in the 45 minutes before the meeting is second guess himself. Hence the ciggy.

Alfred blew smoke out again, enjoying the heat of the smoke in his lungs and the sharpness it gave his mind.

Europe is in shreds. Asia isn't looking so hot either. Alfred winces a little. Both of those are little of his fault, but he's going to try, try to help and rebuild the Nations who basically raised helped him. Medical personal, money, food, raw materials, all being cranked out as fast as his women's nimble fingers could work, while his men keep working overseas.

42 minutes to the meeting. He needs to get out this room, changes his tie and be ready to meet both allies and axis.

Alfred grinds the stub on the bottom of his shoe, stands, and stretches. His heart feels like it's trembling while he walks the quick walk back to his hotel room.

9:55 am

If Alfred's heart was trembling before, now it's pounding hard enough to make his vision swim. In the 40 minutes he's been gone the conference room has filled up and nations are whispering to each other from where they're seated.

There's a hundred and two.

Only twenty three seats empty. Nations who are too sick or are being controlled haven't come.

The nations who are here don't look too good, thinks Alfred as he walks up to the platform that's at the front of the room, with a chalk board behind it. Alfred is forcibly reminded of when his founders were drafting in that tiny, stuffy, Virginia court house; trying to shape a government that wouldn't chain the citizens or the government. Except they're in frosty Switzerland, in a big airy rooms, and about to try and reshape the world into something that isn't smoldering like a dead coal from a fireplace.

He reaches the front of the room and steps behind the podium. Looks out at all those half dead stares and faces still bruised even after two years. Alfred's eyes find Arthur, whose face looks like someone took a hammer to it. Kiku's hands are tightly bound in bandages, but what skin peeks through looks crispy and well done. Fancis looks exhausted, face lined, and dark purple half circles under each blue eye. Some don't look physically damaged, but show the scars in their minds. Vash clenches his teeth and from even here Alfred can see a vein pound erratically in his temple. Gupta flinches spastically, and Tino looks so pale and drawn out that every blue vein in his hands stands out.

Alfred swallows and thanks his stars that he caught the tail end of the war. He has never been so grateful for his isolation and independence. He glances at his brother who had been in almost as long as Europe has. Matthew's hair is limp but his eyes are glinting with optimism, and he inclines his head toward Alfred, face expressing what he's thinking and soothing Alfred's nerves.

' _Go on. You can do it. They'll listen. They don't have a lot of other choices.'_

Alfred takes a deep breath and exhales. Some of the rooms' occupants tense.

"Welcome to the World Summit meeting of 1947. I'm sure most of you know me, but if not, I'm Alfred Jones, and my formal title is United States of America."

He tightens his grip on the podium just a little.

"We, as Nations, define ourselves as being the hope and spirit and pride of our people. We are their ambitions and the idea that one day people can be united under one fundamental idea. We live as long as our peoples hope lives, and the people remember that idea."

"Twice during the past 50 years our foundation has been shaken. The first was the Great War, or as humans are now calling it, World War One. This most recent war, the one we all felt in some way, is going to be known as World War Two. Our citizens will remember it for its raw brutality and the fact there was no corner of the world that was not impacted. "

Alfred looks around the room and makes eye contact with the majority. Ludwig is swallowing dryly and Kiku is very fascinated with his bandages.

"They will also remember it for what happens afterward. They will remember that for the first time in known history, the world will come together and try to prevent wars like this in the future. We will come together as both nations and people to try solve our problems with words and diplomacy, rather than on the battlefield risking existence."

Alfred looks around again. Everyone looks intrigued. He takes it as a good sign and continues.

"I propose that we hold summits every 25 weeks. Every 5 months. We bring issues to the table, and argue in an environment that's just us. No bosses, or humans. We debate knowing out citizens feelings and our own intuition." He pauses, noticing a hand has gone up. It's Ivan.

"And you vould leed these meetings?" He asks gesturing towards Alfred.

"N-no. I was thinking who ever hosts the meeting would. Or that we could vote on it." He says. Ivan looks satisfied with is answer.

"What do you mean, hosting?" interjects Antonio.

"To avoid being traced. And to allow every Country to show their cities, and accomplishment."

"Traced by who, lad?" Arthur snaps.

"You know, assassins and stuff." Alfred gestures weakly, the back of his neck and tips of his ears heating up. Some of them quietly chuckle. Were they ever that young?

Alfred calms down and continues." This last nearly destroyed us all. It was a horrible thing, and I, personally, don't ever want to have to see it ever again." He never wants to see his woman crying for their sons and husbands, or his men go through hell again. Never wants to see the raw skin of Kiku, all burnt up because of napalm and atomic bombs. Never ever wants to have to watch Ivan burn Berlin or Ludwig kill without mercy. Never again. Please, lord in heaven, never bring hell to earth again.

The room's atmosphere has gone sober and quiet. It stretches and curls around them al like smoke or an affectionate cat. Not everyone is sure this will work. There bad blood between them all. Europe has never felt this fractured before. Friend stabbed each other in the back. Allies and treatise that used to be sacred were thrown way-side. Arthur knows his control over most the world is slipping away. Ivan knows his land and power are gaining. Yao is sore all over and is feeling more suspicious and paranoid than ever. He will have to work hard to make sure this never happens again.

"Can we vote on it?" Alfred's voice breaks the silence. It has a distinctly pleading tone. He wants this to work. He wants to save the world from its own dangerous tendencies.

"Those in favor of annual world summits?" He asks voice steady. Every hand goes up. What have they got to lose?

Alfred can feel a sigh of relief or a shout of triumph bubbling in his throat so he swallows it back down and bangs the gravel on the podium.

"Motion passes. Welcome ladies and gentlemen the first World Summit."

-Fin


End file.
